


I'll let you win

by orphan_account



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM Lite, Blindfolds, Established Relationship, F/M, Fingering, POV Second Person, Restraints, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: On their honeymoon, MC lets Jumin blindfold her for the first time. She's ready for him to own her, just as he promised that day in his penthouse.





	

The blindfold was last. He tied it behind your head, assessed it to make sure it wasn’t too tight, and removed his hands. The black cloth was soft against your skin, delicately placed so it wouldn’t catch in your hair. Laying here, shackled and blind, your first response was fear. You couldn’t help it. You weren’t afraid of Jumin – you trusted him, loved him, knew he would take care of you. Still, the loss of your sight startled you – the thrumming in your chest sped up, and you opened your eyes against the fabric.

Immediately, you felt Jumin’s hand caress your cheek. “Relax,” he whispered, close enough to your ear that it made you shiver. His voice, his closeness, his touch – all of it worked instantly, caused your body to soften, the tenseness in your muscles to leave. He remained close, still stroking your hair.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice sounded so genuinely concerned that your heart fluttered.

“Yes, yes,” you assured him, nodding for emphasis. “I had trouble...adjusting at first. I feel better now. It’s not fear, it’s...excitement.” 

“Good.” He leaned over you to press his lips to your forehead. The closeness and warmth of his body made you instinctively press your thighs together, knowing what the tone of his voice and the shackles around your wrists meant.

He moved away from you, his hand trailing from your hair, down your neck, stopping to rest on your shoulder. This, too, was comforting – always knowing where he was lessened your nerves. You sighed a pleasant, relieved sigh when that hand traveled to the buttons of your shirt. He chuckled at your reaction.

“Eager?”

“Mmmhmm,” you answered, knowing there was no point in denying it. He had learned your body better than even you had, and knew exactly how and where to touch to elicit a response. The anticipation aided your excitement, not being able to see what he would do next. You licked your lips when he reached the final button, letting your shirt fall open to bare your torso. The cool air hitting your overheated skin made you tremble. You felt his hands resting on your stomach, a reminder that he was still there. You waited for him to move, craving his touch to crawl to your chest, your hips, your neck. 

And waited.

And waited.

“Jumin,” you whined, arching your back in frustration.

“Ah, ah,” he tutted, hands withdrawing to rest near your sides. You groaned.

“Please,” you asked. You weren’t begging, not really, not like you knew you would be, but you knew that he liked hearing that from you. “Please, Sir.” It was the first time you had ever thought to call him anything other than his name, but here, after your wedding, after he promised to own everything you are – it seemed fitting, natural.

His reaction was instant. His hands slipped up your sides, lips colliding with yours. The kiss was hungry, deep and you barely had time to keep up with what he wanted. He forced your mouth open, tongue sliding against yours, hot and wet. He nipped at your lower lip once and you gasped into his mouth. Your first response was to grab him, to pull him closer, to drag him tight against your body. You pulled on your restraints for the first time, surprised to find you couldn’t. The full realization that you couldn’t move hit and struck something within you, causing your excitement to soar. The feeling of vulnerability, of being powerless to Jumin, made you ache. You felt yourself grow wet at the thought.

He was still kissing you, his nibbles growing harder at your lips, tearing small sounds of pleasure from your throat. His lips traveled lower, kissing and sucking down your neck. He stopped at the hollow of your throat, biting you in earnest right where your pulse beat heaviest. You moaned, loud and clear, at the spark of pain threading itself across your skin. He brushed his tongue against the wound he made, sucked your skin into his mouth.

Without your sight, you were hyper aware of all of the sensations. Every swipe of his tongue and brush of his lips caused you to cry out, sensitive and needy. You felt him bite and suck across your chest, knowing he left bruises in his wake. He wasted no time in removing your bra, pushing it down instead to reveal your breasts, pushed high on your chest from the padded cups. Your nipples hardened against the air immediately. He roughly grabbed your left breast, kneading it in his hand. His mouth found your other breast, tongue sliding over the nub. The feeling shot straight to your groin. You mewled, the sensation washing over you, pleasure flowing over your body. You were vaguely aware you were chanting his name in a whisper, low and steady. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, skimming his teeth over the tip. 

He switched to your other breast, mouth closing hot around it. You let yourself just feel for a moment, his lips and tongue swirling around your skin, hand working at your other breast. All of it felt so good, impossibly good. Here, with Jumin, your husband, your husband – that thought alone almost pushed you over the edge, almost brought you to your peak. You rolled your hips against him, craving friction, craving release. He ground his hips against you, his hardness pressed against your thigh causing you to grow slicker. 

He removed his mouth from your breast with a pop. You gave a frustrated whine at the absence. 

“You’re so beautiful, MC,” he said, reverent, trailing a single finger down your stomach. “Even more beautiful with my marks all over you. My name tag, all over your body.” 

The idea of how you must look struck you suddenly, arms tied above your head, eyes obscured with the blindfold, chest heaving and wet, covered in bruises and bite marks, bra pushed hastily aside. It made your cunt throb. His finger slid back up to your belly button, down to the waist of your skirt. Every cycle made your legs quake. He continued on for a few more rounds, watching you shiver beneath him. 

“Beautiful,” he repeated, and mercifully pulled your skirt down your thighs. You raised your hips to help him remove them completely.

He spread your legs, positioned himself between them. You were soaked well through your panties, wetness spread down your thighs. You knew there was no hiding it from him, and the thought made you blush. He laughed, pleased with what he saw.

“Always so ready for me, MC, and I haven’t even touched you, not really.” He kissed the top of one of your knees.

“Always,” but when you said it, it was more a promise, an affirmation. That you would never feel this way for anyone else again, that he would always be the one able to make a mess of you.

“Do you know why that is?” He asked, fingers tracing a line from the side of your knees to your inner thighs.

“Because I love you,” You answered. “Only you. Forever.”

You felt the tips of his fingers brush up your slit through your panties. The pad of his index hit your clit, sending a shockwave rippling through your body. He circled against it once, twice and then - stopped. You cried out, needing to feel more of him. 

“Almost. Because...” he said, slowly sliding your underwear off your hips. He carefully slid one leg out, then the other, tossing the drenched garment aside. The air hit your swollen clit and made you thrust your hips upwards, desperate for some kind of solid contact. “You are mine.” His fingers slid down your opening, narrowly avoiding your clit. “Tell me you are mine.”

The demand alone made you moan.

“I’m yours,” you breathed, focused on his hands so close but not close enough. “I’ve been yours since the first day I came to your house, since you told me you would have me like nothing you had before, since the first time you kissed me, I dreamt of what it would be like when you owned me, owned all of me like you promised, Jumin, I’m yours, I’m yours.” You chanted it again and again, and though it was true, you hoped it would also be enough. 

“Good girl.” You felt his fingers slide across your clit. You screamed in relief, not caring how loud, only happy that he was finally touching you, really touching you. His hands knew you well, circled your clit, teased your entrance, had you bucking against him within seconds. Your pussy clenched desperately around nothing, aching. Seeming to read your mind, you felt one long, slender finger enter you. He added another shortly after, you being more than ready to take them. He curled his fingers inside you, finding exactly the right place. You were a mess of moans and cries now, unaware of when they started pouring from your throat. The pace he set with his hands was slow, torturous, and steady. He circled, swiped, fucked you against your g-spot til you were so, so, so close. Your muscles grew taut, sweat breaking out over your body. You needed to come, unable to stand another second. 

“Please,” you pleaded, surprised you were coherent enough to form words. “Please, please, please, Sir, Jumin, please…”

His hands began working faster, pressing harder against you. He brought his mouth to your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. Each press of his fingers brought you closer and closer, your toes curling, hands fisting in their restraints. He bit you hard on the underside of your breast, the pain intensifying the pleasure. You wondered how you could feel this good, thrusting your hips to match his strokes. The increased pace and added sensation finally pushed you over the edge. Your whole body shook, waves of pleasure rippling through you. It was impossible, blinding, your nerves bursting, a scream tearing from your throat. He kept working you as you rode out every second of your orgasm, well through your aftershocks. Tears spilled from your eyes at the relief, and you sucked in a breath to recover.

But he didn’t stop. His movements became even faster against you, your core over sensitive after your recent orgasm. It felt strange, too much too soon, part of you wanted to pull away, but his body held you still.

“Jumin?” You asked, confused. He grunted in response, mouth still sucking at your breast. The sensitivity passed, and soon it started to feel good again. Your body so fresh from release was already so close to coming undone again, and you egged him on by thrusting your hips against him. The second orgasm came crashing into you, your muscles straining and twisting, bursting through every part of you, it felt bigger, better, more intense than the first, lighting up every cell in your body. When it finished, you fell, tired and spent, against the bed.

Jumin moved to massage your thighs, your calves. He gave you a few moments to breathe and recover.

“Are you okay?” He asked again.

“Yeah,” you answered. “I just need a few minutes. You’re almost too good.”

He chuckled again, and the two of you sat like this, him rubbing your muscles, you gasping on the bed. He was waiting for you to be ready to continue. 

“We can keep going,” you said, after several minutes of silence. “I’m okay now.”

He started slow again, skimming his hands down your legs to your hips, holding you to the bed. The feeling of the pressure alone, the further immobilization, made you ready for him once more. You spread your legs wider, allowing him full access to you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, eager to pull him in. He remained in place, your movements failing to sway him. You felt one of his hands travel up your body, past your breasts, wrapping around your throat.

You parted your lips, eyes fluttering half open behind the cloth. Desire set your body on fire. His fingers rested lightly on your throat, waiting to tighten their grip. You knew he must be feeling your heartbeat pulsing against his touch, and the thought only aroused you further. You could feel him move closer, positioning himself at your entrance. Had he not been holding you to the bed with one hand, you would’ve slammed your hips to take him then. 

“Ready?” He asked, voice low with the effort of holding himself back.

“Yes,” you breathed in reply.

He slid into you slowly, causing you to gasp and your pussy to clench tight around him. You heard him swear under his breath. He gradually increased his pace, using his grip on your hips to make your body match his strokes. The hand at your throat was steady, the anticipation for when he would close around your neck intensifying your pleasure. He was fucking you in earnest now, giving you no time to recover from his last stroke. It didn’t take long for you to build up again. Your clit throbbed, and you pulled on your restraints again, wishing you could touch yourself to relieve some of the tension. You felt him slam into you again and again, the muscles in your thighs started to tremble, the pleasure in your belly coiling, you were nearly there when - he slowed to a stop.

You gave a frustrated cry, tried to push your hips down again. He held you steady, thrusting into you maddeningly slow, trapping you on the edge of your orgasm. If he just moved a little faster, if you could just rub your clit on something, anything, you knew you’d be come undone. You cried and swore and begged beneath him, barely aware of anything other than the feel of him inside you. It lasted forever. You began to wonder how long you could stand it, the sensation very nearly overwhelming you. 

You felt his fingers tighten around your throat.

At last, he slammed into you again, pace rough and quick and messy. By his second thrust you were coming, orgasm forcing you to shake beneath him, pleasure bursting inside of you. Your nails dug into your palms, legs snapping around his waist, every nerve in your body flaring alight. He moved his hand from your hip to your clit, the other still gripping your throat. The world stopped for a few beats of your heart, when you knew nothing but the feel of him and his name, which fell from your lips over and over until your throat was hoarse. He released your neck to kiss you harshly, hungrily. You knew he, too, was close. He came moments later with a low swear in your ear.

You collapsed onto the bed, muscles sore, body completely spent. You felt him pull out of you and you lamented the loss with a sigh. You felt his fingers fumbling with the restraints at your wrists, undoing the buckles so that your hands were free. Your arms hit the bed, shoulders throbbing. His fingers worked the knot of the blindfold behind your head, slowly removing it. You blinked your eyes open cautiously, hissing when your pupils adjusted to the light. Jumin’s hands fell to working on the muscles in your shoulders and back as you adjusted to seeing again.

When your vision snapped back, you saw him for the first time that night. He looked gorgeous, hair mussed, bare chested, totally sated.

“I love you,” you whispered.

His grin was immediate and playful. He leaned over to plant a kiss on the top of your head, and with your arms free to touch him, you wrapped around him, pulling him close. His hands quit their work massaging you to hold you instead. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your neck. “I love you.” He repeated it over and over, til his face settled in the crook of your neck. Your heart could’ve burst.

You replied by snuggling closer to him. Your body was so tired, your mind so relaxed, and soon, the sound of his steady breathing lulled you into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> -this is my first mysme fanic  
> -this is my first time writing smut  
> -i am Sorry  
> -i thought about making this multi-chapter but I'm on the fence tbh
> 
> ok thanks goodbye


End file.
